Thursday, January 7, 2010

L.A. Times Compares Lil Wayne To Elvis, OK?

Elvis Presley's 75th birthday is upon us, and I can't stop thinking about Lil Wayne. Comparing the long-departed King to the soon-to-be incarcerated Best Rapper Alive might seem ludicrous to some; certainly Presley's accomplishments outstrip those of Dwayne Michael Carter. But there's a logic to the association.

Both artists leaped to stardom out of a troubled South: Elvis on the verge of the civil rights movement, Weezy in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. Both gained fame on the strength of vocal performances that took established styles (rockabilly and urban blues; syrupy rap) to startling extremes.

Both combined a dandyish sex appeal with the classic American charm of someone getting over -- sneaking across the sturdy boundaries of class, race and region by deploying a talent that delighted its owner by coming naturally. Both have been compared to space aliens.

Rock music can be defined many ways: One is as a Southern-born, blues-based, multiracial, male-dominated genre exploring such risky subjects as sex, drugs and the high life in general while still aiming for a youth-driven mass audience. On those terms, rock's era of dominance begins with Elvis' "Hound Dog" and ends with Wayne's "A Milli."

Presley was the dark-lidded white boy whose illicit race-crossing sound enacted a musical era that paralleled the most transformative period in American race relations since the Civil War. Wayne isn't as historically influential, but as the most aggressively gifted representative of the Dirty South, he might be the last crucial voice in the cultural conversation leading up to the Obama era.

I don't believe in the term "post-racial," but I do think pop has entered a new phase, in which rock is no longer the defining force in American popular culture. Weezy's desire to be a rock star, embodied in his often-stalled Coldplay and Lenny Kravitz-influenced album "Rebirth," seems like the rock era's last transgressive gasp as it gives way to a new kind of hybrid that hasn't yet completely emerged.

Wayne even has a protégé, Short Dawg, who also calls himself Elvis Freshly. Old gods die hard and are always available for resurrection. --Ann Powers (source)